


First Time

by alesca_munroe



Series: Barrow's Coffee Shop AU [3]
Category: Unseen - Long Story Short Productions (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Greerson is a tea snob, Pride, Steven doesn't know what just hit him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:20:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesca_munroe/pseuds/alesca_munroe
Summary: Three first times in Barrow's.
Series: Barrow's Coffee Shop AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120031
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	First Time

1)

Harry is tired, her feet hurt, and she needs coffee something desperate. Her mother got a job at the university here in New Albion and, lacking better options, Harry had gone with her. It’s been six months, and she still isn’t used to the wide open sky or the flat landscape. She misses having hills, but not enough to go back to where they came from. There’s nothing back there for her.

Her current awful job - latest in a string of awful jobs - is trying to get people to sign petitions for various causes. Unfortunately, there has to be some kind of magic that makes her  _ invisible _ , because people in New Albion and the surrounding areas are very good at pretending she doesn’t exist when she’s asking for signatures. It’s like she’s on the wrong side of a soundproof mirror wall. She needs a better job, a less awful one, at the very least, but getting a job when you have ten college credits and no real plan to  _ finish _ college and you’re not a high school student? Difficult, to say the least.

Harry smells espresso and looks up, finding herself across the street from a coffee shop.  _ Barrow’s, _ the sign reads in a simple typeface. The building itself is painted black, but the warm light streaming from the windows makes it seem more welcoming than foreboding. Harry crosses the street, intending simply to get coffee and go back to her awful job, but then she sees the sign.  _ Help Wanted _ , a handwritten notice says in the window.

Worth a shot.

Harry walks in and falls in love. The floor is wooden and no two chairs or tables look alike. The menu is written in the same spare hand that wrote the sign outside. A middle-aged man with round, wire-framed glasses stands behind the register. “Welcome to Barrow’s,” he says with a professionally polite smile. Harry is well-familiar with that expression from practice in the mirror. “Would you care to try one of our specials?”

Harry looks at the board. “Can I try… the Caul?” she asks, and hopes she said it right. She needs caffeine and that one boasts extra espresso. While the man rings her up, she takes a breath. “I saw the sign in the window. I’d like to apply to work here.”

The man studies her then says, "I'm Mr Barrow. When can you start?"

2)

Reeking of smoke and burnt clothing is not the way that Edmond likes to go into his favourite coffee shop, but, well. He’s been driving all night and the teen in the passenger seat could use something to drink, too, before Edmond takes him to Addison’s house.

Steven Winstead.

Seventeen years old. A relation two steps removed from Edmond and Addison, third cousin or some such. Edmond leaves that sort of detail to his sister because all he needed to know was that there was someone who needed their help in order to drop everything and drive to bloody West Virginia. And Steven did need help, because Looneyville, West Virginia, was not the most… understanding of places. Not the most liberal. And Steven was rebelling in the only way he knew.

Edmond pulls into the small parking lot of Barrow’s, shuts off the engine, and looks at Steven. “Come along then,” he says with a tired smile. “We could both use a cup of coffee.”

Steven just scowls at the chipped paint on his nails. “What, you don’t trust me alone in the car?” he mutters.

Edmond doesn’t stop smiling. He may have a defeatist nature at his very core, but long years of exposure to the eternal optimism of his sister has worn it down. And Steven could use that optimism. “You can stay in the car if you like, but I think you’ll like this place.”

Steven slouches out of the car. Edmond gets out of his own seat, and leads the way into Barrow’s.

Which has, apparently, had a violent collision with rainbows in the thirty-six hours Edmond has been gone. “Happy Pride Month!” Taylor calls from behind the register. Her dress is striped like the lesbian pride flag, and she has a rainbox headband on. “You want your usual?”

“Please and thank you.” Edmond looks at Steven, who has a shocked look on his face. “You should check out their specials. Olive and Taylor swear by their Magic Is Real tea latte, but there are plenty of options.”

Steven blinks and turns to Edmond. “We never had anything like this back home,” he says, quiet, slightly awed.

“Good coffee or pride?” Harry asks as she makes Edmond’s drink. Her shirt has the bisexual pride flag on it, with a button of what Edmond is pretty sure is the aromantic flag. Her nails are rainbow-coloured. “You’re new in town, yeah? What flavours do you like, I’ll make you something special.”

Steven starts a little. Edmond puts a hand on his shoulder and is pleased when Steven doesn’t flinch away. “Harry Winter knows what she’s talking about with coffee,” Edmond confides in him. “You could be in no better hands.”

“Says the man who likes  _ chili mochas _ and won’t let us make him something else,” Harry teases and looks at Steven with a grin. “It’s chili powder mixed in with the mocha, and then more chili sprinkled on top. But we’re going to have Pride specials all month long, and I intend to make him try at least one of them.”

Steven approaches the register, eyes on the menu. Edmond nods at him. “My nephew, Steven Winstead,” he tells Harry and Taylor. Close enough approximation to their relationship. “He’ll be living with Addison and me. I thought it would be a good idea to bring him to the best coffee shop in town.”

“One small Unveiled,” Taylor calls to Harry as she rings them up. Edmond hands her his card. “Councilwoman LaValle is going to pitch a fit if you’ve started smoking again, Detective.”

“Yes, well, best not let her know then,” Edmond says breezily. He hasn’t had a cigarette in six months. Better that Taylor thinks he was smoking than knowing he was actually on fire about eighteen hours ago. Addison will absolutely know just by looking at him what happened.

“One of these days, I’ll get you to let me make you a custom drink,” Harry promises Steven. “Like your uncle said, I’m Harry. I work here pretty much every day, so you’re bound to see me again.”

Steven nods and doesn’t say anything in return. He doesn’t quite meet her eyes, looking instead at all the rainbows and pride flags of varying colors decorating the shop.

Harry doesn’t seem to mind Steven’s silence, and tells him about the flavour combinations she’s thinking for each of the specials, and that “I know lavender is the go-to for purple, but I’m thinking maybe blueberry, just to shake things up.”

“Orange is going to be a mango drink whenever Olive and I get it right,” Taylor chimes in. “We almost have it.”

Harry smiles at Steven. “Think on it. If you have any ideas, let us know. We love to experiment with the drinks.”

Steven clears his throat. “I uh, sure,” he says and takes his drink. “Thanks.”

Edmond leads the way back to his car, drinking the sharp deliciousness that is the chili mocha. They get back on the road. “Uh, Edmond?” Steven starts, tentative.

“Yes?”

“Can we go back again tomorrow?”

Edmond smiles. “Of course.”

3)

Anthony Greerson has  _ opinions _ about tea. How it’s made, what it’s made  _ with _ , who makes it. He likes his coworkers (well, at least Madeline L’Enver) but wouldn’t trust any of them to brew a decent cup. Consequently, he tends to make his own tea, and suffer a distinct lack when he goes out for lunch or so. L’Enver says he’s insufferable when he doesn’t have tea and she isn’t wrong.

However. As off-kilter a person as he is, and even taking into account his barely tangential relationship to  _ normal _ , Anthony knows it’s in poor taste to bring one’s own drink to a coffee shop. He walks into Barrow’s with no real expectation of decent tea, and every expectation that the students he’s here to meet will actually get something out of this study session, no matter how convoluted the path to understanding may get.

“Welcome to Barrow’s,” the woman behind the register says with a smile. Harry, according to her name tag. “Would you like to try one of our specials?”

Anthony looks up at the specials board and very carefully keeps his face blank of reaction. “Interesting naming conventions,” he observes. Witness? Unveiled?  _ Magic Is Real _ ? He stops reading at that point because one, he knows what he wants and, two, those are horrifying flavour profiles. “Just tea with a splash of milk, thank you.”

Harry smiles as she punches in the order. “All right, we’ll have it ready for you in just a moment.”

Anthony sets up shop at the large table in the middle of the coffee shop. He expects about five students, and doesn’t want to worry about having to maneuver around them to get up out of his chair. The staff meetings are bad enough as it is. 

Movement out of the corner of his eye. Anthony turns, wishing already that the table had better lines of sight, but it’s just Harry with his drink. “Tea with a splash of milk,” she says and sets it on the table. 

“Ah, thank you, Harry,” he says. He expects the pattern of poorly made tea to continue, but there’s no reason to be unkind when she has been nothing but polite.

The coffee shop door opens and Steven Winstead comes in. Steven is in his Intro to Philosophy class, and Anthony has always appreciated his contributions to the discussions. “Hi, Professor,” he greets Anthony and goes up to the counter. “Harry, what’s good today?”

“Started making your drink as soon as I saw you outside,” she tells him with a smile. “Go get to your study session; you can pay after.”

Steven settles in the chair across from Anthony and slides it slightly to the side, giving Anthony an unobstructed view of the door. “Katie and Lynn texted, they’re about five minutes out,” he reports. “Same with Gary. I haven’t heard from Sean, but he’s usually pretty good about being on time. Is it okay that I’m early?”

“It’s fine,” Anthony says. He braces himself for a bad cup of tea.

It’s perfect. Just the right temperature, just the right amount of milk, not over brewed in the least. Anthony relaxes back into his chair, the tension headache dissipating in the face of a good cup of tea. It doesn’t even matter that his leg hurts from all the stairs he walked today.

Steven ducks his head to drink whatever Harry brought him, but not fast enough that Anthony doesn’t see the grin on his face. It doesn’t matter. Anthony is definitely going to come here again.


End file.
